True Intentions
by halbarath
Summary: Two-chapters story. "His relation with Soubi had always been difficult. From their first meeting til this day, it had never been easy, he reflected." Consider they share the name Loveless. rated M to be sure, most certainly a T-rating.
1. Chapter 1

A/N : All the work belongs to Yun Kouga. All the characters too. I sadly don't own anything and I'm certainly not making money out of it.

Readers, thank you for dropping by and for your time. I hope you will like it. Reviews are always very much appreciated so if you have some available time, feel free to let me know your thoughts on it. Also, I'm not a native speaker so I hope I didn't mix up the past tenses too much. I'm sorry for any mistake and typo that might have escaped me.

 **Chapter 1**

His relation with Soubi had always been difficult. From their first meeting til this day, it had never been easy, he reflected as he stood before his Fighter's door. Was it due to the age gap, to his previous bond to Seimei, to their opposite view on Soubi's life or a mix of it all?

The first year had taken a huge toll on them both. None escaped unscathed from the interlude of Seimei's death. Soubi's presence had been comforting in this dark moment and he had quickly become an anchor in his otherwise disjointed life. A fixed point, caring and gentle, affectionate and present. A protective shadow that would always have his back. Despite his weirdness, his dangerous edge, his lies and kisses, he had grown to like him and he had felt at ease with him. Not happy. Not him. But yes, he had felt good. After the graveyard incident, the void his absence had left couldn't be filled. His visceral need to be with his Fighter, to make sure he was safe and cared for, to hear him, feel him, smell him, even to quarrel with him was frightening in its intensity. He hadn't been sure he wanted to acknowledge the truth behind it yet either. But upon his return, weeks later, the carefreeness was gone, the contentment had been tainted. It took them a long time to reach a new comfort zone.

Then he turned thirteen and gradually became more self-conscious. As the year drew on, he began to avoid physical contact with him. He wouldn't be seen holding his hand, hugging or kissing anymore, not even by their friends. It felt – inappropriate. Yet he wouldn't part from him so he stayed close and spent most of his time at Soubi's place. If it weren't for his curfew, he could as well had moved in with him. Most of his stuff laid there anyway. It was the only place he could really relax and feel utterly accepted. It was soothing and his feelings only grew.

When he turned fourteen, their comfort zone shifted dramatically and things went south. He had grown into full adolescence with all its corollary. A few heated fights with schoolmates about Soubi and his relation to him had driven the point home abruptly and painfully. From that moment, even the most casual touch was met by a disproportionate reaction. Soubi never commented his blushes and flare-up. After a time, he simply stopped touching him altogether. Ritsuka had always assumed he had been hurt by his Sacrifice recoiling from him and overlooked the fact that Soubi was perceptive and much more experienced. The older man had simply chosen to let him work it out at his own pace because hurrying the youngster on had never been productive. So he had waited out his Sacrifice, even if he had felt offended.

The turning point was not a happy memory. When Ritsuka finally decided to act upon his feelings, he hadn't met a willing partner. He hadn't considered Soubi would reject his advances. It had stung. No, it had hurt – deeply – and Ritsuka hadn't been able to overcome his broken heart and shame. As for Soubi, too many repressed memories had sprung to mind and he had used the time away from the teen to sort out his own feelings. Months later, Ritsuka still couldn't look him in the eye or talk to him without hearing the ghost of his horrified words echoing in his ears. 'You're 14! I'm not taking your ears! You're 14! You're too young! Why are you so eager to lose them?'

Their friends had worried. They had wondered and asked questions. They had demanded answers when the Loveless pair had grown increasingly distant from one another. They had tried to worm it out of them when they obviously weren't going to confide. They had even ventured uneducated guesses and given unwelcome advices. To no avail. Both were tight-lipped so none ever knew what had happened between them. They became the helpless witnesses of their ever more deteriorating relation. The year wore on, drew to an end and no resolution was met.

For two years, Ritsuka and Soubi only saw each other when a battle was engaged. Their bond had suffered greatly and their string had thinned and dimmed to a dull shimmering but they would still feel the other's need and answer it. Neither of them had ever considered letting the other suffer any harm, no matter how messed up it was between them.

Ritsuka didn't really know what Soubi had done in his spare time during that first year. Soubi who had always yearned for his Sacrifice to give him a direction, an aim, a raison d'être. He certainly had been curious but couldn't bring himself to stay around long enough to ask and enquire about his well-being. And his hands had itched to touch him each time. When he had felt confident enough again, when he had regain some shreds of self-esteem, when he had managed to look at him without reliving Soubi's rejection and his own subsequent shame, they had begun to strengthen their bond again. They would go to a coffee shop after a battle and talk for a little while. But as soon as the conversation lulled down or reached a more personal level, Ritsuka would up and go to return to high school life. He dated a few girls during those two years, fooled around a little but nothing was ever serious. He wasn't interested enough. He even went out with another boy. But he knew deep down, nobody would ever compare. His whole heart, mind and soul were already given and no matter who or when, he would never bestow his ears on anyone else. How ironic. The only person he desired was the only who wasn't willing. The joke hadn't made him laugh in the slightest.

That's how he found himself that sunny afternoon, fist poised in the air before Soubi's door, reflecting how everything went down from the fateful day he had revealed his true feelings and intentions. He was three years older and nothing had changed. He was still head over heels for his Fighter and staying away had only made him more miserable. But he had decided: he was over seventeen and he was going to set the record straight between them.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N : All the work belongs to Kouga Yun. All the characters too. I sadly don't own anything and I'm certainly not making money out of it.

 **Chapter 2**

When Soubi opened the door, tension drained out of him and he felt the muscles in his back relax. His Fighter opened the door wider, a silent invitation to come inside. Ritsuka would have loved to see surprise register on his face but alas, he had known he was standing outside his flat through their bond.

He entered and instinctively closed his eyes as smell hit him first. He inhaled deeply. Oh, that was unmistakably Soubi's place. A combination of paint, smoke, cooking and Soubi's own indescribable scent. He breathed in deeply again and almost sighed. It felt like getting air after holding your breath. It felt like coming home after a long leave. It felt good and his heart swelled. He came in deeper, closed the door and looked around. It hadn't changed much but it felt more lived-in than it used to. He noticed a second easel— most certainly Kio's, a few paintings here and there, a new couch.

Then he looked at Soubi. He was still about a head taller than him, but Soubi had always been very tall. Still too thin but Ritsuka knew how muscular he was underneath. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could picture every muscle vividly. How many times had he lain curled up against him as a boy, a hand on his chest or his face hidden in the folds of his shirt, falling asleep to the reassuring sound of his beating heart? If anyone knew the thrumming strength this body of his contained, it certainly was Ritsuka. He hadn't forgotten. At all. He focused on his Fighter's face. It was not the time to day-dream. Startling blue eyes met his gaze serenely.

"Coffee, Ritsuka?" he suggested and the spell binding them seemed to recede until it faded away quietly.

"Sure," he accepted and lounged on the couch, not really taking his eyes of him as Soubi busied himself in the kitchen and not even trying to be inconspicuous about it either. "Has Kio moved in with you?" he queried, the question begging to be asked.

"No. Why would he?"

Oh. Still so blissfully ignorant then. He could never conceive just how handsome he was. Soubi, who had never considered he could be loved for himself. Soubi, unable to realise love was not dependent on how useful and obedient one becomes.

"Kio has always had a soft spot for you." He wasn't jealous per se. Sadly for Kio, Soubi would never regard him as a lover because of his unwavering belief he was fated to serve his Sacrifice only, in whichever way this one would deem appropriate. Would being lovers be a duty to him? He hadn't pondered the question until then. Maybe he should have, before coming here. He frowned slightly.

Soubi put down a mug in front of him in way of a reply, careful as always not to touch him in any way or form. Ritsuka felt his chest constrict with grief. He had brought this upon them, hadn't he? He was the one to blame. The thought didn't made the sorrow any easier to bear.

He kept his eyes trained on his coffee, the longing in his heart inescapable. If only he could take his hand and entwine their fingers as they used to when he was small. It was simpler then. Could he endure the yearning without showing it?

"You're the spitting image of Seimei at seventeen, you know? You're even as tall," he commented lightly.

Oh, the cold shower! Why was he bringing up his brother while he sat there, desperate for his touch? What did he care for Seimei?

"Why exactly are you comparing me to him?" he said with a hint of anger.

Soubi smiled. His Sacrifice hadn't lost his bite. Still as feisty as ever. And still innocent, if his ears were not fake. "It popped into my mind, that's all."

"I don't like being associated with Seimei. Especially by you."

"And yet, I'm best placed to note the similarities between you."

Conversation died down, as they had always done when they broached the subject of Seimei. Soubi wondered fleetingly if Ritsuka would leave, like he had done so many times before then ruled it out. He hadn't seen him so relaxed around him for years. It was a nice change. His Sacrifice had matured and he could discern a subtle hint of authority in his voice and posture. Finally, Ritsuka wasn't a child or a teen anymore and was about to become a fine young man. He was proud of him. He tasted the sentiment, decided he had never felt proud before, not even of Seimei. He liked the feeling of it. He smiled. Something must have shown on his face however because Ritsuka turned away from him abruptly. He faltered, the happiness gone, misunderstanding his reaction.

"Do you need me for something, Ritsuka?" he wondered, hiding his disappointment.

"Do I bother you, Soubi?" He levelled his gaze at him, untroubled and unreadable dark pits that shone bright in his unrevealing face. He had learned a few new tricks apparently during his time away from him.

Soubi scoffed. "You know you don't." He wasn't fooled. His question had been dodged.

"May I stay here today?"

"Of course." When was the last time his Sacrifice had willingly spend some time alone with him? It seemed so long ago. They used to be close. When Ritsuka had broken off ties, it had hurt acutely. He had known Ritsuka would need time on his own, to come to terms with the situation. But he hadn't thought it would go to such drastic lengths. By the time he had correctly assessed the risk, it had already been too late. Ritsuka had shunned him completely and it had grieved him that he hadn't been allowed to be a part of his life any longer. And he wasn't even addressing the issue of his protection. This visit was a pleasant surprise and it kindled hope for their relation. "I'm happy to see you." he admitted. He was rewarded with Ritsuka's sweetest smile.

Not knowing what else to say to bridge the gap, Ritsuka pulled out a book from his bag and immersed himself in it. Assuming the silence would last hours as it often had been way back then, Soubi went back to his canvas. Painting was cathartic. Painting was all-consuming. Painting made the world disappear. And as Soubi painted, oblivious of him, Ritsuka gazed at him to his heart content.

His nimble fingers mixing the hot paint.

His slender hands lovingly ghosting over the brushes before he carefully chose one.

His toned back moving in sync with the slow strokes on the canvas.

Ritsuka sat on his hands to repress the itch to run them in his Fighter's hair. If only Soubi would make love to him like he did to his painting... He wasn't sure how much more he could take in before he jumped him. It was agony to stand so near and yet be so distant. Still he sat, contemplating him as he worked on. So many emotions leaked into his art while the man himself was so unfazed.

How he had missed him! He shouldn't have let his wounded pride dictate his behaviour. What a waste! He had no idea how long he remained there, lost in the sight of his Fighter, barely daring to breathe lest he disturbed him. He sat there, book forgotten, heart throbbing, aching with a desperate need to touch him. He sat there, unmoving, a small fire burning him from the inside. He sat there until his back hurt and then even longer. He sat there and watched him until his eyes stung and watered. And still, Soubi painted. Again, and again, he chose a colour, then another. Mixed in a little hue here, a shadow there. Drew a small detail in that barely visible spot. Added a bit of light on that motif, a darker shade on this one. Eventually, he put down his brushes, stretched his back and long legs and turned a surprised glance at Ritsuka.

"Gomennasai, Ritsuka. I had thought you would have surely left by now."

"It's alright," he answered in a strained voice, still rooted on his spot. "I'm— grateful— you allowed me to see you paint," he told him with an awed face. "Arigato, Soubi."

The elder man shrugged it off. He had a lot of material to put away and he methodically cleaned them before. He couldn't be blamed for carelessness. Once everything was pristine again, he offered to prepare dinner. Ritsuka's stomach growled; he hadn't forgotten Soubi's cooking. Both smiled and Ritsuka got up to help with the preparations. He was enjoying himself, cooking alongside Soubi, the smell of good food and the sound of chopping soothing and homey. It brought up good memories of his childhood, when he was twelve and Soubi would set him up with a fragrant meal that held no traps. When he could eat quietly with only Soubi's soft smile as company. Or, on busy days, the uproar of Natsuo and Yougi.

"I've missed you, Soubi." He declared suddenly. He put a hand on Soubi's arm to still it and draw his full attention. "I've missed you so much," he repeated softly, peering intently at him and not backing down an inch, "every single day of the last three years."

"Yes," he conceded.

"You're not going to make this easier for me, are you?" He smiled in spite of the strain.

"I always seem to choose the wrong words with you, Ritsuka." He offered with a smile as wan as the look in his eyes. He had stiffened under his hand, unused of the contact and indecisive about the best way to handle the situation.

Ritsuka flinched from the hurt he witnessed there and withdrew his hand as a reaction. He almost mewled at the lost of contact and paced nervously, trying to discipline his turbulent thoughts and emotions. Maybe he hadn't been ready to tackle the situation. Maybe it had been a wrong move to come here. Maybe he shouldn't have deluded himself so much. He clenched his teeth and fists. But in the few hours he had been here, the emptiness had withdrawn and he had felt so — complete. He looked at Soubi, who stood still, a model of calm and quiet. God forbid he took an initiative that could cost him his Sacrifice's approval and earn him a punishment. Ritsuka felt more aggravated by the minute and wondered briefly why he still bothered asking when ordering would save him the hassle. But he was the one at fault. It had been his mistake in the first place and whatever Soubi's share in its responsibility, he had decided on his own that he would patch things up between them. He wasn't a child anymore. He could do it. There was no way he was going to be intimidated and deterred from his goal. Once he had found his resolve again amidst his inner chaos, he stopped in his tracks and turned to face Soubi.

"Am I old enough now?" he asked very calmly, meeting and holding the other's gaze without flinching. There was anger behind his quiet words. A deep, growing fury kept at bay by sheer willpower.

"Ritsuka?" he wondered, a flash of surprise crossing his features before it was replaced by a slight frown.

Ritsuka was upon him in two strides. He had been patient. He had spend the whole day gnashing his teeth and worrying himself to death in anticipation. But he couldn't contain it any longer and he was already fed up with the one-sided conversation that would never really progress. If Soubi refused to deal with the elephant in the room, then he would do it for them both. He grabbed his Fighter's shirt and pulled him down roughly. It was not the sweet, chaste peck of a child. Nor was it gentle. It was a fierce and passionate kiss. A searing kiss that would make their lips tingle with the mere memory of it. A fervent kiss shared only by lovers. His heart soared and his knees buckled when Soubi kissed him back, albeit much more softly. His grip relaxed and Ritsuka happily began to unbutton his shirt and roam his hands on him. He meowed forlornly when Soubi suddenly broke the kiss, pushed him gently back and walked away from him.

Mystified, Ritsuka watched him procure a pack of cigarette, take one out and carefully lit it. He noticed with some twisted pleasure his hands were shaking. Good. At least, he shared the discomfort. He bid his time while Soubi smoked silently, avoiding his gaze on purpose. Once he was almost finished and Ritsuka was about to demand an explanation, he drew out another fag and lit it with the still glowing end of his previous one. Ritsuka was left speechless. He definitely had struck a nerve if his partner resorted to chain-smoking. That didn't bode well.

"Stop it, Soubi," he deadpanned after the third cigarette was crushed to the ground. "Talk to me."

"No."

Ritsuka blinked. Once. Twice. Soubi had never disobeyed him since their name had appeared. That must have hurt because he had made sure to deliver a forceful order. Yet, there he was, holding his gaze and refusing his command ? Why was it that the only time Soubi would grow a backbone to openly and deliberately go against his wishes, to quarrel with him was on this matter? Why was he so adamant about the total absence of intimacy between them when he clearly enjoyed it as much as himself? Never had their name felt more appropriate. Never had he hated it more. What had he done to deserve such pain? What had he done that warranted such spite? Why was it his true love would reject him each time? It hurt. It hurt so damn much.

"Why won't you have me, Soubi?" he asked, disgusted with the pleading quality of his voice.

"I can't," he answered simply, shaking his head lightly, the movement sending golden locks flying. As if that would be sufficient. As if that was satisfactory.

"But why?" he exclaimed. "I've waited three bloody years! How many more do I have to endure? When will you be satisfied?"

"Age is not a problem," he replied with a small frown. "You're old enough now to know what you want and not misinterpret your feelings for something they aren't."

'"Thank you," came his sarcastic remark "for the vote of confidence."

"But I won't take your ears."

"Too bad I won't give them to anyone else."

They were in for a very long night. Neither was willing to back down and both were terribly stubborn. Gone was the giddy atmosphere to leave in its wake only yearning and a deep sense of doom. They undeniably loved each other but couldn't reconcile enough to find a way to be together. An idea suddenly popped into Ritsuka's head. He turned it over, analyzed it, compared it to various memories and found it shed a very interesting light on the matter at hand. He mulled it over, considering the implications, evaluating the consequences of asking, contemplated the possibility of ordering the truth out of him then decided against it. That wasn't the sort of relationship he desired. He would do it the normal way and hope his Fighter trusted him enough to be honest about it. Which was far from certain.

"Soubi? How did you lose your ears?" he asked softly, tempering his own anger and resentment and hiding his conflicting feelings as best as he could.

The change was instantaneous. His whole body tensed and his carefully masked face went blank. Oh, so that was the question that needed to be asked.

"Did you come here to have sex, Ritsuka?" he brushed his question aside bluntly, all-inquisitiveness.

"Well, are you willing now?" he smirked, half-amused. Emboldened, he walked to him and laid a hand lightly on his arm. He felt Soubi tense and mused on how badly he had misjudged his Fighter's seriousness.

"Your wish is my command." He asserted with a voice as devoid of any expression as his face, his usually bright eyes fixing him with a dull and empty stare. Suddenly losing his appetite, Ritsuka gripped him tightly.

"No. Never." He whispered. "I would never order you to—" he trailed off, unable to form the words and finish his sentence. He recoiled, turned away, keeping a hold on the closest wall to steady himself. He had thought Soubi might have regrets about the person he gave his ears to. Thought maybe his partner had broken his heart. Thought he might have qualms because he was 'only' his Fighter and wouldn't 'deserve' him. It wasn't beyond him to utter some rubbish like that. But this sentence... Could it be? It was a far more disturbing thought. No. Not disturbing. Terrifying. Did he want to know? Should he insist when Soubi had made it perfectly clear he wasn't willing to share? Could they ever move past their dispute if that wasn't addressed?

He looked at his Fighter again, smoking again and observing the night sky as if he hadn't a care in the world. As if he was fooled by his act. He was familiar with every physical scar his body harboured. He had an inkling about his emotional scars. He just knew he had touch one of the deepest.

He wanted to go to him and reassure him of his undying affection and sympathy. He wanted to hug him and kiss his troubles away. He wished his touch could soothe his shattered soul. He wished Soubi could believe his words of love. But he wasn't sure how Soubi would interpret any physical contact at that moment. So he forcefully put his hands in his pockets, for he didn't want to see them shake and he wasn't sure he could refrain from touching him if he didn't fisted them until his palms bled.

"Soubi? Were you ordered to lose your ears?" he asked softly, afraid maybe talking loud would lend more reality to this sickening possibility. Seimei wasn't above giving such an order. He had had Akame rape Mikado after all. He would hate his brother forever if his Fighter's answer was positive.

"Ordered?" he repeated in a daze. "I wasn't named then."

He wasn't named then? But he had been seventeen when Seimei had branded him. That was before? So, he must have been at the Academy still.

The Academy. Soubi hated it there. The only time he had taken him there had been because Ritsuka had ordered it. What was he missing? It was there, lurking at the back of his mind.

What else was Soubi definite about? He hated butterflies with a passion. He despised Nagisa-sensei and abhorred Minami-sensei. But Soubi didn't like girls, did he?

Somehow, Minami-sensei was the key. He didn't understand the role he had played but he had a very bad feeling about it. He had raised him. Maybe he had caught Soubi with a schoolmate and gotten angry? No, no matter how embarrassing and whatever the punishment— he had no doubt that it would have been particularly painful and probably humiliating— that wouldn't have scarred him so heavily he would be distressed more than ten years later.

He never called him sensei. Always Ritsu. With a slight sneer on his upper lip. Ritsu. There was no deference. No mark of hierarchy. And Soubi was mad about the chain of command. He would never overlook it. If he called him Ritsu, that could only mean he considered them equals. Or he had been allowed to. Or worse, ordered to. Why would Minami-sensei give such an order? No... He wouldn't have... He looked at Soubi, still smoking. What was that? His fifth, sixth, seventh cigarette? The whole pack? He had lost count. Minami-sensei wouldn't have, would he? Could he have used Soubi's youthful love then abandoned him to Seimei? Such cruelty. But his ears... He felt sick suddenly. No. No.

His Fighter. What cruel fate had subjected him to Minami-sensei and Seimei? What the hell had they done to his Fighter? Sometimes he hated his brother so much it scared him. His Fighter. His handsome, soft-hearted, caring Fighter. Honed to be such a ruthless opponent. They broke him so many times, in so many ways. Would he break him too one day? Would he use his love and turn it against him to shatter him even more? Was that even possible? No. He would die before. The road hadn't been easy but it had armed him for the difficulties to come. He would care for his lover. He would stitch him back. He would protect him, like nobody had deemed necessary to do until now. Not even him in a way. He had abandoned him for three years. He would have to make amends when they won't be so messed up anymore. Right now, there was something more important and more pressing to be done.

He went to Soubi, threw his cigarette away, cupped his face and kissed him sweetly, lovingly, slowly. He kissed away the lost years between them, the knot in his stomach, the robbed ears of the one he loved, the sadness and the resentment. He kissed away their fight and their disagreements. When he pulled away, their lips were swollen and his soul felt finally at peace.

"I don't care what Seimei had you do. I'm disgusted by what Minami-sensei submitted you to. Because I love you, Soubi, for who you are. I love all of you and I've done so for years. You are not the man who raised you and I know you will never hurt me. I give you my ears, of my own free will, because I know you will respect me and treat me well, because I trust you and I know I will never regret it. I give you my ears, Soubi, because I want to. Because you're handsome and attractive and I want you, and because we are destined for each other. I will wait for you, for as long as you need, but allow me to love you, Soubi. Let me show you obedience is not a condition for love. Let me unravel the lies they scarred unto your flesh and soul with gentle caresses and soft kisses. I promised you, a long time ago, I wouldn't leave you. I'm sorry I didn't keep it. I'm sorry I let you down these last years. I'm sorry I've hurt you. I'm sorry that I broke your trust. But I promise now, in full knowledge and full consent, I will stand by your side no matter what. I will stick with you, always. Because this is how I love you."

He wasn't used to pour his heart out. But for his Fighter, for his lover, he was willing to do so much more. He waited anxiously for the blond's answer, never dropping his gaze, even when the silence lengthened so much it was deafening. If he were to reject him now, he would most assuredly die. When Soubi trailed a finger down his jaw, he knew it would be alright.

"I could never refuse you anything, Ritsuka." he said softly, the small smile that graced his lips reaching his eyes. The soft smile he only bestowed on his Sacrifice.

It might take some time but they would find their way together. Their name wasn't important because they had each other. And yet, never had they borne it better than the day they acknowledged the only love that would matter to them. Let them be Loveless to the world. They couldn't care less. They had each other, and it was perfect.

 **The end**


End file.
